


Dawn

by senashenta



Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Loss of Virginity, M/M, NSFW, Stucky - Freeform, Top Steve Rogers, Violence, angel!bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 20:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senashenta/pseuds/senashenta
Summary: Bucky is an Angel of Death, but when Heaven experiences a shortage of Guardian Angels, he's pulled from his reaping duties to become a Guardian himself, charged with protecting the one-and-only Captain America. Between pulling Steve out of fires and catching his ass when he jumps out of airplanes without a parachute, Bucky thinks he might just have a stroke... but he also might just be falling in love at the same time.





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a prompt from writing-prompt-s on tumblr that said “Due to a shortage in guardian angels, God has issued an official decree. All angels must enroll in the guardian program under threat of banishment. You are the angel of death.”
> 
> Explicit stuff is later on in the fic.

**DAWN**  
**By Senashenta**  
**Chapter One**

This was Bucky’s worst nightmare.

Admittedly, Heaven had a bit of a problem in the Guardian Angel department; bluntly put, they _had none_. Being a Guardian was dangerous, and over the previous few decades, between wars, famine, natural disasters and anything else the Earth could dish out, the majority of their ranks had been decimated, lost to the violence the world below was capable of producing.

The problem was that Guardians didn’t just grow on trees like the proverbial apple, and even if they _did_ , it took a hell off a long time to train them. But they were still needed. The humans, living their lives in the mortal coil, had no idea how often Guardian Angels were there to whisk them away from danger—lately often at the cost of their own lives. And while any Guardian worth his salt would do so without a second thought, it meant that their numbers were dwindling, leaving humanity more and more vulnerable by the day… and that just couldn’t stand.

That was where Bucky came in.

He was _not_ a Guardian by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he was about the most opposite of a Guardian as you could get; he was an Angel of Death. His kind, while naturally less numerous than some of the other Angel classes, were still doing fine. In fact, with all the catastrophes going on on Earth, business in _his_ neck of the woods was downright _booming_.

It was a Death Angel’s job to administer the final Touch when a person was dying, to snuff out of the last spark of life, and then to escort their spirit to it’s final resting place in Heaven. They kept Earth as free of wandering souls as possible, while giving a measure of peace to those who had just departed from life.

Bucky was good at his job, and he liked it. Which is why he was so pissed off when he found out he was being pulled from his regular duties and put into Guardian Angel rotation.

He wasn’t the only one, of course. A lot of Angels from all the different classes were yanked out of their comfortable positions and shoved into the role of Guardians. Unceremoniously, at that. And Bucky understood that they had a reason for doing it—Guardians were an important part of keeping the Earth running smoothly, making sure important people were protected, and at the moment they were dying off at an unprecedented rate. He knew _that_ all too well.

That still didn’t mean he had to like it.

To say Bucky wasn’t a “people person” was more than just an understatement. In his job heralding death and escorting souls, there had been very little interaction with his charges; just enough to explain what was going on (confusion was a common occurrence in the first moments immediately after death) and then to say goodbye when they reached Heaven and he sent them on their way.

Guardians, on the other hand, had to live among humans constantly, only returning to Heaven occasionally to give reports to their superiors. Certainly, and thankfully, they were invisible to humankind unless they wished to be seen, but they were still surrounded by people, by the crush of humanity and the crowded world their lived in. Bucky preferred a quiet life, one where he didn’t feel like he was constantly being boxed in, trapped.

Not that he had a choice in the matter. He had orders, and if he disobeyed the punishment was banishment, losing his Grace and his wings, being cast from Heaven altogether. That simply wasn’t an option, as far as Bucky was concerned. Heaven was his home and had been for as long as he could remember—what would he even do, if he was forced to leave? To live a human life? He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Which was why he had shown up to the orientation, then training, determined but with a frown on his face the entire time.

It only got worse when they had to alter his tattoo, a full sleeve of designs that ran from his wrist to his shoulder on his left arm; the intricate patterns and designs were complex spell work, and enabled him to perform magic, mostly simple but some more powerful. Angels’ tattoos were how they were able to make themselves invisible to humans, for example, or how he, as a Death Angel, had been able to Touch people to reap their souls.

Now the complex linework on his arm was being changed, taking away some of his previous abilities and opening up new ones for him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like _any_ of it. Watching his tattoo become something else entirely was like losing a part of his identity, a part of himself. It made discomfort coil and curl in his stomach.

At least they weren’t taking his wings.

Black as night with feathers edged as sharp as knives, they were formidable weapons, both defensive and offensive. More than that, they helped regulate his body temperature, keeping him warm when it was cold out and cool when it was too hot. He didn’t think he could have handled it if they had tried to tamper with his wings on top of everything else.

It was bad enough when they locked the silver bracelet around his right wrist—every Guardian Angel wore one, it chained them to their duties and served as a homing beacon to their charge down on Earth, the runes carved in it glowing faintly when said person was nearby.

Bucky sighed and fiddled with the bracelet absently, tugging at it as his frown deepened, creasing deeply around his mouth and between his eyebrows.

“James.”

He still responded to his given name, even though he preferred to go by ‘Bucky’, mostly because several of the higher-ups insisted on calling him that, refusing to use his nickname. So when a voice called for him, he stopped twisting the bracelet around his wrist restlessly and looked up.

He recognized Peggy right away. She had been the one to tell him about his reassignment, and while he wasn’t happy with the entire debacle, he couldn’t exactly blame her for it. She was just doing her job. When God decreed something, no one could do anything but obey, no matter how high-ranking an Angel they might be.

Now, Peggy approached him with a small, vague smile on her face. Bucky had to admit she seemed nice enough. Put together, her hair pulled back neatly and not a single one of her snow white feathers out of place. When she reached his side she paused and waved for him to hold his arm out. “Let me see.”

Bucky held his left arm out for her, waiting while she inspected the new spells that had been worked into his tattoo design before eventually giving a little nod of satisfaction. She patted his arm and he dropped it back to his side, even as she was taking his other hand and lifting it up to have a quick look at his new bracelet, making sure it was properly secured.

“Are you nervous?”

“I don’t want to do this.” Bucky’s frown returned again. “I’m not a Guardian.”

Peggy gave him a sympathetic smile, “you are now. You passed all the training and tests. And we need all the Guardians we can get right now.”

A sigh. “So I’ve been told.”

“Just try to make the best of it.” Peggy advised; “people watch. Maybe enjoy some food. Just make sure to take care of your charge.” Her voice took on a serious tone, then, and she added firmly, “this is important, James. The man you’re going to be watching over is a pivotal person in the world right now, and has been for decades. We’re counting on him being around for a long time yet to come as well. You need to take special precautions with him.”

Bucky shifted from one foot to the other, giving Peggy an incredulous look. Why in the hell would they be giving him someone so apparently important to watch over for his very first assignment? Surely someone with more experience would have been a better choice. Or maybe the ranks for the Guardian Angels were worse off than he’d actually realised.

“Okay, so who is he?”

Peggy reached out to tap his bracelet. The runes began to glow a faint red color, signifying that his charge was far away. She looked back up at him and squared her shoulders. “You’re being assigned to Steven Grant Rogers.”

Bucky nearly swallowed his tongue. “ _Captain America?_ ”

“Yes.” She nodded and lifted a hand to pat against his chest lightly, then offered, “it won’t be easy. His last Guardian quit outright in the middle of his assignment, it was quite the scene. So all I can say is _good luck_.”

Good luck? Yeah. He was going to fucking _need it_.

 

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Inspiration for Bucky's sleeve tattoo:


End file.
